


I'll protect you from all that goes bump in the night

by Fushicho



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: And there was only one room, Creepy Dolls, Creepy Fluff, Geraskier, Idiots in Love, M/M, Oblivious Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Oblivious Jaskier | Dandelion, Protective Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Protectiveness, Sharing a Bed, and there was only one bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-29
Updated: 2020-10-29
Packaged: 2021-03-08 19:55:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27232372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fushicho/pseuds/Fushicho
Summary: Geralt learns that not all surperstitions are false.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 8
Kudos: 141
Collections: The Witcher Flash Fic Challenge #009





	I'll protect you from all that goes bump in the night

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to [unstable_grad](https://archiveofourown.org/users/unstable_grad)  
> who's been a wonderful beta <3

“Oh! Geralt! Look!”

Without any consideration for the people behind him, or anywhere around him for that matter, Jaskier grabbed his friend’s arm and crossed the street to look at the merchant’s stall that caught his eye. It was displaying small puppets, made of off-white patterned fabric and small clay pumpkins for their heads, painted with big eyes and disturbing smiles.

“Have you seen how  _ creepy  _ those puppets look?”

“I have. And?”

The bard sighed heavily, shaking his head. Even after all these years he couldn’t believe how unfazed Geralt could appear sometimes, which could make his excitement quite difficult to maintain but this time he wasn’t about to calm down. No sir, he deserved a bit of fun.

“We should buy one. I’m  _ sure  _ it will inspire me enough for a song!! Or a poem! Please, Geralt, your contracts haven’t been exciting in  _ weeks _ .”

“No Jaskier, we’re not-”

“I’d listen to your young friend, if I was you.”

While Jaskier’s eyes, and whole face to be honest, snapped to the side so he could look at the old woman that just spoke, he knew his witcher would only move slightly, staying absolutely composed, not surprised at all. And it was a bit infuriating to know he was the only one to get startled and to almost jump out of his skin.

“And why is that, woman?” Geralt grunted, arching a brow.

“You’d think a witcher would know. What do they teach you, uh? Samhain is nigh, White Wolf. You don’t want the spirits to mess with you, don’t you? They’ll take those instead of trying to pry your soul out of you.”

“Hm.”

Ah, that was the dubitative,  _ this is bullshit but I won’t say it to your face, _ hm. And his friend probably knew better than some old superstitious hag, right? In fact, he knew so many things about monsters that it was starting to look suspicious, even for a witcher.

“Ah, maybe later then, we’re awaited by the alderman and I suppose I can’t just choose one in a pinch. Thank you for the advice!”

Jaskier declined politely, even if it was perhaps a bit too obvious that they had no plans to ever return to that stall. But it wasn’t like he could tell her how neither of them cared about her goods, was it?

“To the alderman then, dear?”

“Hm.”

The man had nothing interesting, well, nothing that could feed his inspiration at least. A few drowners, so it wouldn’t be dangerous either. They couldn’t exactly refuse the money and, if he didn’t lie about  _ how many _ monsters Geralt was supposed to slay, it would be pretty well paid for once.

“Do you want to get them tomorrow? We could settle for a drink, for once.”

“No, I have enough daylight to do it now. Shouldn’t be long. Try not to get in trouble while I’m not here.”

“Me? In trouble? Ha! I never get in trouble. I  _ start adventures. _ ”

“Don’t start too many adventures, then.”

“Yeah, alright  _ mom. _ I won’t hide my sausage in any royal pantry, or in any pantry for that matter.”

Jaskier sighed, waving his witcher off. Roach was already settled, it always was the first thing they did when they planned to stay a night or two. He needed to get a room for both of them then maybe sing a few songs to earn enough to buy them a nice dinner. He knew Geralt rarely had the occasion to eat enough, so he was happy to provide when he could.

So. Rooms.

Of course there was only one left, there  _ always _ was only one left to the point where he was starting to wonder if they were cursed, not that he minded, but… well. He knew he could be a bit much, and he supposed his friend could appreciate some calm. At least a room for two was better than sleeping next to Roach like they had to do a few times.

Now that their things were secured in their room, he could go down to sing for a while. Considering how far the drowners were supposed to be and the fact that they were supposed to be half a dozen, which usually meant they were eight or nine, he should have about two hours. One for his song, about thirty minutes to do anything and the rest to ask for a bath, food, and generally get ready for Geralt’s return.

The patrons were quite generous, but he suspected it wasn’t because of his performance. He was sure he heard someone mutter about  _ fucking bards taking advantage _ , and someone else admonished they drinking buddy with a  _ don’t be a tightwat, you know it’s bad luck. _ While he was a bit disappointed that the crowd didn’t actually enjoy his talents, money was money, and if it meant he could splurge on something for himself without impacting their finances, all was for the best.

His pockets were full (well, not really since he took the time to set most of what he made aside so he was sure he wouldn’t spend too much), so he decided that he had the time to see what the city had to offer. He had no need for silks, unless something unfortunate happened he had enough clothes until he could get back to Oxenfurt. His boots had been repaired not long ago, he wouldn’t have to think about it before spring. He had enough supplies for his lute and his writing too… so really he didn’t need much for once.

With a heavy sigh, Jaskier realised that he walked for the fourth time in front of the stall where he saw the creepy puppets earlier. He knew it was nothing but superstitions, that it was ridiculous to think that spirits would try to mess with them — he or Geralt would have noticed by now if it was supposed to happen every year— and even  _ more  _ ridiculous to hope that some kind of not-even-magic-puppet would protect them.

_ And yet. _

Yet every time he so much as  _ looked  _ at the old woman there was an itch under his skin and he felt uneasy. Perhaps it wouldn’t hurt to buy a pair? He saw someone buy one a little earlier, and they didn’t seem expensive. Better safe than sorry, right? And it would help an elderly woman make some coin. After all, considering how empty his pockets could be, he was almost rich today. And even though he had no intention of extorting anything from anyone, some of the patrons  _ did _ feel as he used the situation to his advantage.

Really, it was the right thing to do.

“So, tell me, how do I choose the right one?”

She looked rather smug, her eyes shining with something akin to pride as if she knew he would come back. Well, it was her job after all and if he could read a crowd, there was no reason she couldn’t read through potential customers.

“It’s simple, Master bard. You want a puppet that feels  _ right _ . It’s not about how it looks, it’s about how it resonates with you. Place your hand near it, close your eyes, think of the person it will protect and you’ll know if it’s the right one.”

He ended up not with two, but with  _ three _ puppets because halfway through the transaction he wondered if Roach would need — erhm— would  _ like _ a small gift.  He gave her one with a green head, since she liked her apples red, and snuck her a few treats so she wouldn’t be tempted to try to munch on the puppet.

After that, since nothing else caught his interest, he chose to get back to the inn. He made sure everything would be ready for Geralt’s return: bath, food, clean clothes. He placed the puppets at the foot of their bed: the first with the white head on the left; the second with a fiery orange head on the right..  _ Just in case _ .

As the sun was slowly setting, Jaskier decided that there was something eerie to this town. He felt uneasy; like he couldn’t sit still, and even with the curtains closed he felt  _ watched. _ Which was absolutely stupid, because no one could see him from the ground, not when he stood this far from the windows, and with the room as dark as it was. It couldn’t be a monster either because Geralt would  _ never _ leave him alone if something was lurking nearby. Or rather he  _ would _ but only because he would be after it. Though one time had been a close call since they were lied to like it happened too often and-

_ Wait _ .

Was he hearing things? 

Heart hammering in his chest, Jaskier stilled, rubbing his fingers together as he held his breath, trying to listen.

There was  _ something. _ Someone? Maybe. He could hear it walk down the corridor, getting slowly closer.

_ And it wasn’t Geralt. _

A shiver ran along his spine as he tried to move silently, retrieving the silver dagger he kept in one of his boots, cursing the wooden floor that creaked quietly as he took position on the good side of the door, where he couldn’t get smacked if the person, the  _ thing _ , outside decided to enter by slamming the door open.

He waited, and time seemed to stretch as whatever it was got closer. He almost couldn’t hear it over his pounding heart, and his own breath seemed deafening.

It couldn’t be more than a few steps away, now.

The door rattled as the thing outside struggled with the handle before crashing against the wall when it finally succeeded to open it. Jaskier was about to pounce on it, his knuckles white as he gripped his weapon as firmly as he could--

And smacked right into his Witcher.

“MELITELE’S TITS, GERALT! Don’t scare me like that! Do you want me to have a heart attack? What happened? Why aren’t you stomping like you always do?”

“Strained my ankle.”

The answer came with a growl he could recognize in his sleep, that spoke of little misfortunes adding up and a growing irritation.

“Well,” Jaskier breathed out, tucking away the dagger, “you’re lucky I have already paid for a bath— it’ll be here in a minute now that you’re back. Do you want some ale? It’s quite good for a town so small actually. Once you’re clean I’ll help you with your ankle and I’ll ask for a warm meal to be brought up.”

This time his witcher answered with a grunt, an  _ affirmative  _ one, which was reassuring. Jaskier was only allowed to fuss when it was minor injuries, and had been snapped at more than once when he was concerned about a particularly nasty looking wound. And well, knowing that his friend wasn’t on guard was soothing his nerves. There was nothing to be anxious about.

He still took his dagger when heading downstairs.

The rest of the evening was as normal as it could be. Time passed lazily as he washed Geralt’s hair and tended to his ankle, bandaging it so it could heal properly over the night. He applied some balm to the cuts that weren’t healed yet, washed and mended the clothes that needed to be, and put them to dry by the fire.

“You bought the puppets?” The White Wolf asked, when he was done sharpening his swords and spotted them as he angled the blade to check for any damage that would require a smith.

“Ah, yes,” Jaskier stated, turning towards the dolls at the foot of the bed. “I sang for a while, and the people were quite generous, but it came to my attention that it was because of superstition rather than my talent so,” he pauses, thoughtfully for a moment, “I thought I could redistribute some of that wealth? It can’t hurt, right?”

Geralt hummed noncommittally. 

“Can it? Can  _ they _ ? I, uh… she told me I needed to  _ feel  _ them when I had to choose, and well, I think they were kind of  _ warm _ ? Like, I wasn’t touching them but it felt pleasant, and when my hand was above other puppets it was just… cold like it should be?”

“It’s just ugly puppets that you probably paid a fortune for. They’re not magic, they don’t even smell anything beside clay and the woman that sold them. She probably had heated stones hidden somewhere.”

Right.  _ Right _ . No need to freak out, then. No need to think about what could happen. No need to make scenarios where they would strangle them in their sleep, no need to imagine that  _ something  _ was going to take them during the night.

Everything was perfectly normal.

“I’m tired, Jaskier. Either you calm down and come to bed or you go find someone to fuck your anxiety off.”

“Ah, what a shame, if you weren’t tired, I could do both.”

Geralt only deigned to snort as he started to undress and Jaskier did the same, feeling suddenly thankful for the small bed when goosebumps bloomed on his skin.

“With how much they charge, you’d think they’d find a way to keep the rooms warm.” Jaskier sneered, quickly retreating under the covers and trying, without much success, to stay far from Geralt.

“Stop complaining already and plaster yourself to me like you always do when you think I’m sleeping.”

He didn’t even have the time to move before a strong arm was wrapped around him, tugging him close and, well, since he had been caught there was no point in denying the distance between their bodies anymore, so he closed his eyes and sighed happily, letting the witcher’s warmth seep into his skin.

It was still completely dark when a big hand gently patted him on the shoulder, and he wasn’t even completely awake when it pressed against his mouth. He couldn’t help but smile, letting his eyes fall shut again — he would certainly wake up when Geralt started the festivities for real — when he realised something was  _ wrong _ .

It wasn’t completely dark. Not like it was supposed to.

He never saw a fire that casted a light that…  _ blue _ .

When the bard finally came to his senses, rather quickly due to the sheer  _ panic  _ that shot through his veins. Several wolf-like, spectral heads peeked through the door, sniffing the air before two slipped inside.

They didn’t look like wolves. Not  _ living  _ ones, at least. Their emaciated bodies were missing patches of fur, of  _ flesh, _ and if it wasn’t for the sure hand still pressed against his mouth he would be sure all of this was a nightmare.

Pressed against his back, Geralt seemed alert, half sitting in the bed but he wasn’t making any movements. Which was reassuring, he supposed. Kind of.

The two ghastly beasts were walking close to the ground, snarling silently as they moved through the ground, seemingly searching for something. They were circling closer to the bed, and Jaskier was dreaded the moment when they would see them and attack because Geralt’s swords were too far from the bed, and they didn’t seemed corporeal which meant they would require a special oil that, of course, wasn’t on the sword.

In three words or less: They. Were. Dead.

He didn’t found the courage to fight against his friend when he was pushed on his back against the mattress, wasn’t even aroused by the strong body that covered his, didn’t even wonder why his White Wolf was shielding him like that when it would only cause both of them to die instead of just him.

There was nothing to be done.

It was the end.

Jaskier closed his eyes, ignored the tears that rolled down his temples and waited.

For the second time that day, the minutes seemed to stretch to hours.

The hand on his mouth was lifted slowly, carefully, and he took a shaking breath before peeking through his eyelashes. The room was dark again,  _ normally so _ , only illuminated by the almost extinguished fire.

“Geralt…?” He whispered, his voice wavering with leftover anxiety.

“They took the dolls.”

“...Really?”

“Hm. My medallion woke me up. Can’t feel them anymore.”

Jaskier let out a long, relieved sigh and ignored the fact that he was starting to shiver against Geralt. “Melitele’s tits, I thought we were going to die.”

“So did I. Seems like you were right about the puppets.”

“I’m glad that you’re admitting it, but to be honest that won’t help me to sleep at all.”

His witcher chuckled, and  _ gods  _ that was the most beautiful sound he ever heard, and he barely had the time to register the fact that he was still very much under him before he was shoved on his side and Geralt settled against his back once more.

“Hm. If you stay awake, I won’t sleep much either. Want to hear how I strained that ankle?”

“Yes, dear. Gladly.”


End file.
